City of Ghosts

by Stacia Kane

  No more pain. Instead pleasure washed over her, raced up her veins and into her heart and mind, and just before she collapsed she wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry. She knew that feeling. Loved that feeling. Lived for it, thought of it, pined for it, begged for it. And now she might die for it, and wasn’t that a fuck of a thing.

  Lauren had shot her up with a massive dose of Dream.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Remember, through cleanliness and proper grooming you show others you respect yourself, and that’s what makes them respect you. No boy wants to date a slob.

  —Teen Truth, the magazine for girls

  Darkness cradled her, held her in soft arms and kept her warm. When she tried to open her eyes, light stabbed her and she shut them again, rolling over on the bumpy—Wait. She was supposed to be dead. Was she dead?

  Silence made her think perhaps she was. The City was a silent place. If she was dead, she’d be there.

  She didn’t want to open her eyes.

  But … the City didn’t smell like garbage. At least she assumed it didn’t. It didn’t to living people, but as far as she knew, nobody had ever asked a ghost if the City stank to them.

  The thought made her giggle. She tried to snuggle deeper into the—Wait.

  Wait. No, she wasn’t dead. She was definitely not dead, because newspapers didn’t exist in the City, and newspaper covered her.

  She opened her eyes. For one confused second she thought she was at the bottom of a hole of some kind, that she was wrong and she was in the City after all … until she realized she was looking at the gunk-spattered walls of a Dumpster.

  They’d tossed her in there. Spiked her and thrown her body in the garbage. Fuckers.

  Oh, shit, what time was it? What—It was still night, but what time was it?

  It was Friday night—she hoped it still was, anyway. Saturday was the day of Elder Murray’s Dedication. They’d all be heading into the City for the ceremony, the entire staff—Would Lauren be with them? Would the Lamaru be waiting for them, would Baldarel?

  Was her—Yes. Okay, her bag was there. Her phone? Did she have … Something was in her pocket and she thought it was the phone but she couldn’t tell for sure, couldn’t get her stiff hand in there. Okay. She’d get out of the Dumpster first.

  The fact that she’d ended up in a Dumpster with a Dream OD pumping in her veins would have given her cold chills if she’d been able to feel them. As it was, she focused on the lip of the Dumpster and on getting out, on what she’d learned and what she had to do, and pretended this little movie hadn’t played in her head a few hundred times already with a much less cheerful ending. Not that this one was particularly happy.

  Her muscles protested and her joints creaked as she pushed herself to a stand, clinging to the walls of the Dumpster no matter how sick it made her to do so. She didn’t have a choice. Once that ceremony started …

  She needed to get to the Church.

  The edge of the Dumpster was more slippery than she’d thought. It took three tries for her to get her leg up over it, cringing all the while at the smell and the bits of rotten food clinging to her clothes. She tumbled without grace to the dirty cement below.

  That hurt. And since she was already in pain she might as well go ahead and throw up, too. Her stomach thought it sounded like a good plan, and who was she to disagree?

  The world spun around her, jittered and shook before her eyes. She needed to figure out where she was. She needed to get to the Church. Needed help.

  Her legs didn’t want to support her. They moved slowly, clumsily. It occurred to her that while she was still alive, she might not stay that way. It had been night when she’d gone to Lauren’s place and it was night as she wove her way down the alley, but that didn’t matter much; her system was pretty fucking loaded and so was she. The irony that her tolerance for Dream had saved her life—so far, at least—wasn’t lost on her.

  The mouth of the alley opened onto an unfamiliar street. It didn’t look real; it was flat somehow, like a painting, or like the exhibits in the Church Archives made of plywood. People stood on it like they were talking but she couldn’t see their lips move, couldn’t hear them; their arms lifted in slow motion. She had the creeping sensation that if she walked too far into it she would be swallowed, turned into something flat and inhuman, too. It would trap her and never let her escape.

  But the brick wall rubbed solid and rough against her palm. She stood in reality; she would stay in it.

  Keeping her body in contact with that reassuring wall, she slipped out onto the street. Signs above doors made no sense. Shit, she couldn’t read them. The lines were nothing but squiggles; they didn’t form anything. She knew they must, she just couldn’t see them—was too fucked-up to see them—but it didn’t help. Her sluggish heart coughed in her ribcage.

  Okay. Her hand slipped into her pocket—Yes! The phone was in there.

  She braced herself against the wall and stared at it, trying not to see her blood-covered hands, trying to make sense of the buttons. Okay. Not being able to read created problems when trying to … Hell, she’d try them all. Wasn’t like she had all that many people programmed in there, right?

  Her fingers slipped off the buttons. Maybe she should take a nap first. Her eyelids were so heavy, her limbs felt rubbery. If she—Speed. She had Nips in her pillbox, right? She could take some. That might help.

  The heels of her boots slid over the sidewalk; her ass hit the pavement with a thud she didn’t feel. Her jeans were stiff with dried blood, still damp in places. Her arms were rust-colored with it. She didn’t even want to imagine how she looked.

  Okay, pillbox … pillbox … Her hands got tangled in her bag and she couldn’t get them free. Long minutes passed while she struggled with it, almost crying except she couldn’t feel anything enough to cry. Finally her hand closed around it and she yanked it free.

  Stupid little catch! Why did she have a pillbox with such a dumb little catch on it, she couldn’t seem to get it open … couldn’t see it very well, her eyelids kept closing on her …

  Voices. She opened her eyes and saw a gang of teenagers across the street. What the—Shit, she’d passed out, hadn’t she. For how long?

  What was that noise? Nobody on the street seemed to be making any, but it came from somewhere. And she knew that sound, it was a song, a familiar one, it—A phone call! Oh, shit, a phone call, that was awesome, that was what she needed. Okay. Gingerly she pressed the button, held it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Tulip? Tulip, shit, that you?”

  “Lex?”

  “Aye, where you at? You give us the tell now, aye, we all over lookin for you, you—”

  He disappeared. Had she hung up? Or had she fallen asleep again? Maybe she should just close her eyes and curl up. They were looking for her, they’d find her, right?

  Wait, who was they?

  Loud voices came through the phone. Arguing. And then another voice. “Chess? Chess, what they done to you? Where you at, you know where?”

  “Terrible?”

  “Aye. Lookin for you, dig? You got any knowledge where you at?”

  “No, I’m—I don’t know where I am, they threw me away and I don’t know where I am.…”

  “What?”

  “They threw me away. I was in the Dumpster, I don’t know where I am and they … they spiked me and I can’t really … I can’t really think very well, can you find me?”

  Silence.

  “Terrible, please …” She wanted to cry but couldn’t. Couldn’t seem to muster any tears, her mouth was so dry too, was her water in her bag? “I’m lost, I don’t—”

  “You see any signs?”

  “I can’t read them. I’m sorry.”

  “See anything? Got anything you can give me?”

  “I’m so tired. I just want … I just want to go to sleep.” That was wrong, she knew. This was important, she needed to stay awake, needed to tell them where she was. And what were Lex and Ter
rible doing together? There was no way in hell those two would ever be having a conversation that didn’t end with blood and weaponry.

  “Naw, ain’t can sleep yet, Chessie. Hang on, aye? Got anybody around? See anything you know?”

  “It … it all looks fake. Not real. They wanted me to tell them who you were.” Pain in her wrists flared, but not too sharp. And this was important. She had to tell them what had happened. Why it was so important she wasn’t sure but it was. “They wanted your names and I wouldn’t. I didn’t.”

  “Aye.” Pause. “Aye, know you ain’t. Later on that, aye? Just give us aught where you are. Anything?”

  “No, there’s a … Hold on.” If she could get up she could walk to the end of the street. A sign at the corner, fuzzy white against the blurred streetlights.

  Of course, she probably wouldn’t be able to read it. But she might see something else there. A building she knew, anything. “I see a sign. It’s a … I think it’s a Stop Shop.”

  Yes. It was definitely a Stop Shop. The square green and white sign, its corner broken to reveal a strip of fluorescent light behind, stood alone on the street, guarding the small, empty parking lot.

  “I think it’s the one we were at before. Remember? I think it’s that one.” She’d know better if her eyes would work right, if she wasn’t so tired and dry and moving through a fuzzy plastic world shrouded in dust.

  Terrible and Lex murmured to each other; she didn’t really hear them. Her legs ached again, she wanted to sit down, but if she did she’d pass out again and she didn’t think she could do that yet.

  Lex took over the phone. “Hey, Tulip. Sit you down where you at, aye? Ain’t go closer to that shop, Terrible wants me to tell. You just sit and give us the wait, dig? We almost there.”

  “I can’t get my pillbox open.”

  “No worries on it. Got straight for you, we do, you just give us the wait.”

  Her water was in her bag. Surely that would help? Her stomach couldn’t seem to decide if water was a good idea or not but … anything, she was so dry, and shit she was filthy too. Covered in her own blood, covered in vomit—she didn’t know when that had happened—and muck from the Dumpster. Wow, were they going to be glad they’d found her.

  And she’d have to spend the day like that. What little urgency she was able to feel leapt in the back of her mind; they had to hurry, the ceremony would start at dawn, she didn’t know how many hours it was until then and what they still had to do …

  She slumped back down on the pavement and started digging for her water. Damn, she’d left some of her supplies at Lauren’s; the graveyard dirt, the mandrake and tormentil … It wouldn’t be hard to get more—she could invade the Church supply room for most of it—but it was still a pain in the ass. Not that she could really feel her ass. Or anything else.

  Her fingers didn’t want to work the bottle top; she finally got it open. Water flooded into her mouth, through her body; she gulped it down desperately, ignoring her stomach’s warning that it was too much, too fast. Water spilled from her mouth and dribbled down her chin and shirt and she didn’t care. Honestly, it could only improve things, given how filthy she was. She was tempted to pour it over her head.

  “Still there?” Lex’s voice came from her lap.

  “Yeah.” Her stomach lurched, a warning she fought; after a moment it settled. Good. Now if she could just get her pillbox open, just to wake her up, she was so tired …

  Her eyes closed. Whether she fell asleep she wasn’t sure. All she knew was suddenly the world was flooded with light and noise. Terrible’s Chevelle jumped the curb and came to a stop a couple of feet away.

  Terrible and Lex leapt out. She didn’t think she’d ever been so happy to see two people in her entire life. There was an awkward moment when both of them reached for her; they hesitated in unison, then Terrible knelt at her side and scooped her up.

  “I stink,” she managed. Not really what she wanted to say, but it came out anyway. Her fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt, trying to get the signal to her brain that he was real, he was really there. “I was in the Dumpster.”

  “Naw, no worryin, now.”

  He set her in the car and she closed her eyes. When she opened them they were moving, speeding down the road so fast the streetlights looked like solid streaks of neon. Or maybe that was just her. She was acutely aware of how bad she smelled, how bad she looked, and acutely aware that she was drooling on Lex’s shoulder. As if this whole situation wasn’t humiliating enough.

  “Get the wake on, Tulip,” he said. In his hand he held a mirror, three fat lines stretching across its surface like tiger stripes in the reflected light. “Here. Gotta get you up, aye? Gots some knowledge for you. Got work, we do.”

  “What? What kind of …” She yawned.

  “Here.” He lifted the mirror carefully, tilted a chopped-down black straw in her direction with his other hand. “No time for holding up, it ain’t.”

  Okay, that was worrying. Almost as worrying as the way her vision kept blurring and her fingers didn’t want to close around the straw. It took her a few tries to pinch her nostril correctly. Lex held her hair back for her.

  Her face went numb; the speed hit the back of her throat and flooded her mouth with that metallic acid taste, so familiar. So fucking welcome. Her heart bounced in her chest, stuttered into life, her eyes focused and her entire body tingled. She—

  “What the hell are you guys doing? Together?”

  Okay, that was an awkward silence. But she didn’t care, because her blood purred merrily along in her veins and she felt lucky, so lucky and so glad to see them. Beneath the high something dark and uncomfortable stirred: This was a heavier dose than even she was used to. She had no idea how loaded that needle had been, but Lex must have chopped at least a gram for her, and tomorrow’s hangover lurked, chuckling, waiting for her to crash.

  But all that was later. For now she was alive in a speeding muscle car, high as a kite, safe.

  “Gave you the ring up, iffen you recall,” Lex said finally. “You shout me find Terrible, so I did. Thought he were killin you first, aye, but he weren’t so we figured on you havin trouble, we did.”

  “You figured right,” she said, regretting having asked. Because now it all flooded back; Lauren, the First Elders, the psychopomps, those awful psychopomps, and the pain and blood and …

  Shit. The hangover would be more than worth it, because the only thing standing between herself and a total fucking breakdown was the hard shell of her high and the determination not to make herself look like even more of a pussy than she probably already did.

  “Had the knowledge where you was,” Terrible said. “Where I dropped you, anyroad. You ain’t still there—checked all them rooms, aye? The whole building—so we guessed on them … dumpin you off somewheres.”

  “You looked in every apartment in the whole building?”

  He shrugged.

  Heat rushed to her face. After a second she said, “Wait. So nobody was in Lauren’s place? Did you find her place?”

  “Aye. All empty. Meaning, got furniture and all but them not in it. Lookin like they leave in a fuck of a rush, dig, all scraped. An—”

  “What about the skulls?”

  “Skulls?”

  “Yeah, there was—she had a room full of—ow!”

  Shit. And double shit, because she’d just caught the implications of Terrible’s words. Yes, it was possible that when the two men had gotten to the building, Lauren and her Lamaru pals had been out making their fun little Dumpster deposit—she hadn’t thought it was possible to be more pissed off at Lauren, but it didn’t really surprise her to discover it was—but why would they all have gone along on that ride?

  No. Better odds were that they’d headed off to the Church, to take their places before the Dedication ceremony.

  “You right, Chess?”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, just—I need to make a phone call.”

  It was five in the mor
ning; damn, she’d been out for, what, three hours? Four? Okay. The Dedication was scheduled to start at dawn, which was only a little less than an hour away. It was entirely possible Elder Griffin would be in.

  His phone rang once. Twice. Three—

  “Elder Griffin’s office, Facts are Truth.”

  “Hi, I need to speak to—” Wait. There was something very familiar about that voice. “Dana?”

  “No, this is Cesaria Putnam,” said the girl on the other end.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  To impersonate a Church employee is to commit as grave a crime against Truth as is possible, and the penalty is death.

  —The Book of Truth, Laws, Article 894

  Her entire body went numb; for a second the phone threatened to slip from her grasp and get lost in the haze of red covering her vision. No. No, that wasn’t possible.

  “Lauren?” The name came out like a growl. “Lauren! Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare—”

  “Cesaria? Shit, you’re still alive?”

  “I swear on fucking Truth, if you don’t—”

  Lauren gave a soft laugh. “Sorry, I have to go. The ceremony will be starting soon and, of course, I have to be there—I mean, you have to be there, since Inquisitors don’t attend. Enjoy the rest of your day, though—I’m sure I’ll be seeing you later.”

  “Lauren! Don’t you hang up—fuck!” Chess pulled the phone away from her ear. She’d try again. She’d try all the extensions, she’d keep going until she got somebody, anybody, surely someone would believe her—

  Except they wouldn’t. Not if she wasn’t standing right in front of them so they could see for themselves. Nobody she’d ever heard of had been able to cast personal glamours strong enough to fool a witch. Nobody in the Church would believe it was possible—hell, she still couldn’t believe it was possible, even after hearing her own voice talking to her on the other end of the phone. Even after finding that fetish designed to cast glamours just like that, and seeing the picture of the girl who wasn’t her.

  No answer when she tried Elder Griffin’s office again. No answer in Goody Tremmell’s office. No answer for Elder Ramos, Elder Thompson, the library, the Archives, the Liaising office … She even tried the supply room, the prison, and the Grand Elder’s office.